[Last updated 4/6/24 7:38 PM PT—Added two photos of the Avenue 60 exit.]
Why do I do this to myself.
That's what I was thinking as I sat waiting for the Gold Line (a.k.a. "A Line") Metro train at the Heritage Square station, numbered bib safety-clipped to my tank top.
I'd parked just three stops away from the starting point of the "Run the 110" race I'd signed up for—a 10K, though I'd never done a 10K before, and although I had no intention of actually running it.
But it was a special way of experiencing the 110 Freeway when it was closed to traffic—and for the first time in 20 years.
Sure, I could've just walked on the 110 at my leisure, not gotten up at 5 a.m. and not hightailed it to South Pasadena for a 7 a.m. starting time. I could've just joined everybody else during the event known as "ArroyoFest," part of the 626 Golden Streets open street event.
But I wanted to be held accountable to do the whole thing. I wanted to make sure I would go at all—knowing my habit of bailing on myself when I haven't gotten enough sleep or when I'm in a flare-up.
And that meant paying good money to get a T-shirt, be assigned a number, and receive a medal for finishing. Even though I wasn't sure if I could finish the whole thing.